


Julekurver

by Mossley



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24411319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossley/pseuds/Mossley
Summary: Greg visits with his personal Ghosts of Christmas Past. Set after “Goodbye and Good Luck” in Season 8. Angst. Greg/Sara friendship, GSR.
Relationships: Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Julekurver

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yes, this is yet another Christmas story – they all came from a Christmas challenge; it's what people asked for at the time. This one is for VR Trakowski, who asked for a story featuring Greg and an ornament. Please pardon any typos and such. I don't have a beta, and the dang things like to sneak in. If you see any, let me know and I'll fix 'em.

Sipping a glass of wine, Greg Sanders observed his Christmas tree carefully. It wasn't big, but he took care every year while decorating it. While Americanized, the Sanders family had retained some Norwegian traditions, and several came out over the holidays. Even though he was away from his kin, Greg kept up the customs, drawing comfort from their familiarity.

So, he ate his rice pudding – a bowl every morning until it was gone, since it was just him – wondering when he'd find the hidden almond. The prized marzipan pig held a place of honor on the breakfast bar. His mother and grandmother shipped him krumkake, carefully wrapped so the rolled wafers retained their shape. He usually skipped the lutefisk, but lamb was an annual tradition. Music played, and every day he opened the door on his Advent calendar.

But it was the Julekurver that had become the center of his annual rituals. Literally meaning “Yule baskets,” they were heart-shaped paper baskets hung from the tree. The left and right side were made from different colored papers, woven together to form the basket. The weaving could be simple or elaborate, with the imagination of the maker being the only limit.

It was something his mother insisted on making every year growing up, and unlike some of the other Sanders' traditions, he'd been glad to escape that one when he moved out on his own. He found the work tedious, and there always had been something else he'd rather be doing.

It wasn't until he met Sara Sidle that he started making them again.

The first year Sara was in his life, he'd been a love-stricken puppy. She was smart and funny and beautiful, with legs that went on and on. Finding where those legs ended was a dream that visited him often that year. She never encouraged his flirtations, but she never made him stop, either. They joked and laughed, and she treated him with more respect than any of the other CSIs. He made her mixed CDs, and she turned him on to the classic rock synonymous with San Francisco.

That year, he made a simple Julekurver for her. The decision came at the spur of the moment, thinking she'd appreciate the uniqueness of the decoration. And it was a way for him to figuratively give her his heart, albeit one of cellulose. He used what he had available in his lab – some old file folders. One side was the traditional manila, the other a greenish tint. It hadn't turned out too well – it had been ages since he'd made one – and he was embarrassed to give it to her. But it took a place of honor on his own tree, and he grinned sheepishly every morning when he saw it.

The second year Sara was in his life, their friendship grew deeper. She took his desires to go into the field seriously, but unfortunately not his flirting. Still, when another lab rat ragged on Greg's poor performance in the field, it was Sara who put the tech in his place, coming to his defense. He'd grinned bashfully for hours when he heard about it.

That year, he remembered early in the season to make her Julekurver. He stopped by a craft store for colored paper, and her basket was a traditional red and white with a simple weave. This time, he spent the entire Advent season trying to come up with the perfect way to deliver it to her, and thus it never left his tree.

The third year Sara was in his life, she was dating Hank. It left Greg confused. What did the paramedic have to offer that he didn't? It seemed like a relationship doomed to fail, and he felt a bit of glee when he heard the gossip that the two had broken up.

That year, Greg made her a colorful Julekurver, in shades of vibrant blue and yellow. It would have cheered her up, if he had delivered it to her. It never seemed right to give her his heart when she was with another man. Later, he felt guilty for never working up the nerve to give her the gift when he realized how upset the breakup had left her.

The fourth year Sara was in his life, something was wrong. He could never place his finger on it, but Sara seemed off. She still joked, but her heart wasn't in it. She continued to work hard, but there was a difference. Everyone had considered her Grissom's pet, at least until that year. Their boss was distant to her, treating her differently. No one knew what caused their falling out, and Greg's attempts to talk to her were met with tolerant smiles. She flatly refused to disclose her troubles to him, and fearful of losing their friendship, he never pushed.

That year, her Julekurver had playful Santas on a field of white on one side, while the other held snowmen on a blue background. He'd gone to visit his family that holiday season, and in his haste, he'd forgotten to give it to her before he left. It was a mistake that tormented him for ages when she was pulled over for a DUI later that year.

The fifth year Sara was in his life, he began to worry. She'd been angry, well angrier than normal. She'd always been passionate, but now her temper seemed to spill over easily. Not at him, though, and that made Greg wonder where they stood. She was mentoring him as a CSI, and she never seemed to run out of patience with his questions or nerves – something no one else could claim. When Catherine tried to have her fired, he had been the first and most vocal of Sara's defenders.

That year, he made her a Julekurver in soothing shades of green, but he kept it to himself. By this point, he'd realized he'd waited too long to make his move. Sara was a friend – a true, deep friend, and as much as he wished it was more, he didn't think she'd ever see him as anything else. Besides, they were working a brutal case through the holidays, and the timing never seemed right to give her a playful heart-shaped gift.

The sixth year Sara was in his life, things were better. She was happier, smiling and joking more freely than she had in years. Whatever had brought her down the previous two years seemed to be gone. She worked with Grissom more often than with him, but she was always there if he had a question or was in the mood to joke around.

That year, he'd made her a Julekurver out of habit. The weaving pattern was simple, with plain blue and white papers. He truly intended to give it to her as a gift between friends, but she actually had plans that Christmas and took an unheard of vacation. It joined the field of her other Julekurvers on his tree.

The seventh year Sara was in his life, Greg felt a renewed sense of hope borne from a nightmare. He'd been beaten within an inch of his life, and Sara had come to the scene. Sara – the woman who worked triple shifts without hesitation, who chased any and all clues, the CSI who had taught him more than anyone else – had no interest in the evidence. She sat by his side, crying softly as she comforted him.

She visited him every day in the hospital, then every day at home while he recovered. Later, she encouraged him to talk to a therapist, even recommending one of the department's psychologists – from personal experience. When she finally admitted some of her own painful past, he realized how much she trusted him; he vowed then and there to never betray that faith.

But that year, his hope also died quickly. While working with her on a case of poisoned drug addicts, she took him to lunch. It was an out-of-the-way location, with no outside indications it was a restaurant, and she admitted a “friend” had introduced her to the spot. He rightly guessed it was a boyfriend, and he kept his disappointment to himself.

Later, while teasing her, he'd had made a crack about her being nearly as elusive as Grissom. “Can you imagine being in a relationship with him?” he'd joked.

Sara had looked up from her evidence long enough to smirk shyly at him. “I don't have to imagine, Greg.”

He hadn't said anything – what could he say? Besides, he'd already sworn to never betray her trust. That was something he could offer her, albeit unspoken. Greg had his private doubts – being discreet was one thing, but it seemed Grissom wanted no one to know of the relationship, and he wondered how healthy that was.

But Sara seemed happy, so he let himself be happy for her. If nothing else, she was in a better place emotionally than he could ever remember.

Then the Miniature Killer had grabbed her, and Grissom finally admitted his true feelings for her to the entire team. The shocked looks from the others confirmed that Sara hadn't shared that tidbit of information with anyone else. He'd worked with the others frantically to find her, and he'd gone to the hospital to be there to hear the doctors' verdict when she arrived. When it was clear that she would live, he had excused himself from the others and locked himself in a bathroom stall until his tears stopped.

Greg had returned her earlier favor and visited Sara every day as she recovered. The first day home, he arrived uninvited to their house bearing his best coffee and bagels. Grissom had opened the door with a look of puzzlement.

“I'm on vacation. Let Catherine handle whatever it is,” Grissom said firmly, moving as if to close the door.

“I'm here to see Sara,” he stated, stepping forward with his gifts held up.

Almost reluctantly, he was allowed entrance and directed to the kitchen. Grissom fixed him with a harsh stare before leaving the room. “She needs her rest. Don't wear her out. Honey? Greg's here to see you.”

While unpacking the bags, he was watched by a boxer who regarded him curiously, as if intruder was some sort of over-sized insect who had escaped one of Grissom's habitats. Greg was just as confused as the canine as he took in the photos on the fridge, the mementos on the shelves – all the signs that Sara had been in a long-term relationship. He'd known they were together, but he hadn't realized either the depth or breadth of it.

Grissom returned in a moment, quietly fussing over Sara as he helped her into the room. He poured everyone some juice, set out mugs and napkins before taking a nearby seat with his crossword puzzle. That was when Greg realized how much his boss truly cared for her. He didn't try to interrupt the visit, but he closely monitored her, moving to fetch the cream before she needed it, quickly fixing her bagel with the practiced ease of routine, keeping their dog from greeting her too energetically.

Greg made Sara laugh with his exaggerated tales from the lab, and that earned him a smile of honest appreciation from Grissom. He was let in every time after that without hesitation, but Greg never shook the feeling he was tolerated for Sara's sake. Once she recovered, he kept his visits limited to work or the diner or a rare group outing.

That year, the Julekurver had been the most elaborate yet – an intricate weaving pattern of a heart within the heart, using a rose-covered paper accented with one of petal green. It never even made it to his own tree. He packed it away sadly, thinking of wasted opportunities.

Now, it was the eighth year Sara was in his life, and she was gone. The stress of her kidnapping, one too many horrific crimes, the ghosts from her past, whatever – she had snapped. Grissom told everyone she was fine, visiting her mother in San Francisco. Greg suspected they were the only two who knew her mother was in a mental care facility.

It might be what Sara needed, it might even be healthy for her, but Greg couldn't help worrying. She was going through her own personal hell, and he didn't think it was a trip anyone should take alone.

Add to that, he was more than a little pissed at his boss, which was surprising given Greg's admiration of him professionally.

While he didn't know the details of their relationship – and frankly, he'd be squicked out to hear them – he knew enough about Grissom's lack of social skills. The entomologist probably did love Sara in his own way, but she needed someone who could help her. The fact that Grissom was still in Las Vegas was all the evidence Greg needed to draw his own conclusions about his ability or willingness to help the woman they both loved.

This year, he had yet to make Sara's Julekurver.

Because no matter how angry he was with Grissom, Greg was more pissed at himself.

He loved Sara – or so he wanted to believe – but what had he done for her? Sure, he'd been a friend, but not enough of a friend. Greg remembered his own nightmares vividly after his attack. Sara's had to be worse. Hell, she had lived through more nightmare material as a child than most people ever experienced. Add in the horrible cases they dealt with, then her kidnapping – he should have known she'd need more help than she wanted to admit.

But Sara was strong, and the trouble with strength was people came to expect it, to rely on it. You depended on that type of person. Sara was a survivor, someone who persevered and came back stronger than before. She always pulled through whatever crap life threw at her. No one realized she had finally reached her limits until it was too late.

He hadn't realized.

Walking over to his tree, he took down the first Julekurver he had made her, a sad smile forming as he remembered the simple joy he felt that day. He'd been so enthralled by her, so smitten, yet he was never able to ask her out. That was a decision he regretted now more than ever.

Would she have accepted his offer of a date if he'd been confident enough to ask her? If she had, would it have even led anywhere? Could she had avoided the pain Hank brought her if he'd been there instead? Greg would have been there for her when she was down, would have noticed if she was drinking more often. If nothing else, Greg knew they'd have remained friends, and they would have been closer than they were now. He would have been in a better position to help her.

Or not.

“What if” was a dangerous game; Sara had taught him that. There was no way of knowing how things would have turned out. It might have been fine; it might have been horrendous; it might have been some odd combination of the two. Wishful thinking didn't change reality.

And the reality was Sara obviously loved Grissom – why, he couldn't begin to fathom. But he was the reason she came to Las Vegas in the first place. As much as Greg wanted to believe he was the better choice, he wasn't Sara's choice. In the end, that was the only decision that mattered. She had fallen for Grissom, and despite her current troubles, the relationship had made her happy. If there was any chance of fixing it, she was going to. Greg wasn't going to stand in the way of whatever she needed.

They were friends, best friends probably, but that was all that would come of that. It was pointless to think – or hope – otherwise.

Working carefully, he took all her Julekurvers from the tree, wrapping each piece of his heart carefully in tissue. He then packed them away in a cardboard box. After a long pause, he sat down and created an eighth one, using a more somber midnight blue and silver this time.

Tomorrow when he went into work, he would ask Grissom for Sara's address in San Francisco and mail them to her. If she wouldn't take his heart literally, she could have the figurative representations of his feelings. They belonged to her anyway. It was past time he gave them to her. Maybe they'd bring her some joy.

If anyone deserved some joy in her life, Sara did.

**The End**


End file.
